“WE NEED TO FIND TAMI,” I said.
“She just posted a photo from Joe’s office,” George said, looking at her phone. “I think she’s still there.”
“Let’s go!” I said.
Ned, George, Bess, and I all headed out.
“Save my show, Nancy Drew! You’re my only hope,” Brady called after us.
We raced back across to the Arts Complex. “I’m definitely getting my workout in today going back and forth between the hotel and the Arts Complex,” George commented.
“It does feel like we’ve been on a loop,” I agreed, as we headed back up the stairs to Joe’s office.
We entered the office again. It was still full. If anything, there were more people here. I spotted Tami standing in the corner. She had her phone out and was staring at it avidly.
“George, does she have the same phone as you?”
George peered over. “Looks like it.”
“Great, can I borrow yours?”
George looked at me. “It’s not that I don’t want to do anything you need to help solve this case. I always have your back, but . . . you know this phone is my baby. It’s my life. My best friend.”
“Hey!” Bess cried.
“My best nonhuman friend,” George clarified, but Bess continued to glare at her, unconvinced.
“I promise you will get it back safe and sound,” I assured her.
George kissed her phone. “Goodbye, my precious. You’ll be okay, don’t worry.”
She handed over the phone.
I turned toward Tami, plotting my move. I would have only one shot at this.
“I feel naked,” George muttered behind me. “It just feels wrong not to have Chester.”
“Chester?” Ned asked.
“I named my phone Chester,” George stated, as if that was the most normal thing in the world. I wasn’t looking, but I knew Ned was shaking his head, bemused.
“Here, hold mine,” I said, handing her my phone.
“Tami! Check this out!” a woman to Tami’s right called out. Tami pivoted. Her phone was still in her hand, but she was no longer paying attention to it. It was time to make my move.
“Bess, your purse!” I hissed.
Bess didn’t hesitate. She handed her purse over, and I slung it over my shoulder, pleased by its weight. She carried giant purses, which magically always seemed to have anything we needed in them. “When I’m within a foot of her, call out my name,” I whispered. My friends nodded, their faces set.
I took a deep breath and marched toward Tami.
I got closer and closer, until I was only a few inches away. Then, right on cue, I heard Ned call out, “Nancy!”
I spun, twisting my torso with vigor, allowing the centrifugal force on Bess’s purse to make it spin out. It whacked Tami right across the arm. It wasn’t hard enough to hurt, but it definitely surprised her. Her phone was flying out of her hand and scattering across the floor. The contents of Bess’s purse also went everywhere. I still cradled George’s phone in my left hand. The whole room turned to look at me.
“I am so sorry!” I exclaimed.
Tami looked at me. Her mouth gaped open.
“Watch where you’re going,” she finally snapped.
“I am so sorry,” I repeated. “Let me clean this up.” Crouching down, my hands moving quickly and in all directions, I began picking up the contents of Bess’s purse: Kleenex, lip gloss, breath mints. I glanced up and saw that Tami was watching my hands fly over the mess, her eyes bouncing back and forth.
“I can’t believe how careless I was. I’m not used to carrying this purse,” I prattled on, wildly gesturing with my right hand and using a trick I had learned from a pickpocket I caught a few years ago. Distract with one hand; pick up with the other. With my left hand, I dropped George’s phone and palmed Tami’s, quickly depositing Tami’s phone into Bess’s purse.
I picked up the phone on the ground, which was George’s, and held it out toward Tami.
“Here’s your phone,” I said with an apologetic smile. “Again, I am so sorry!” I said.
“Yeah, fine,” Tami grumbled.
I scurried back to my friends and handed Tami’s phone to George.
“Quick,” I said. “We only have a few minutes before Tami realizes we switched phones.”
George grabbed the phone and started working her magic.
“I’m glad you put a phone in her hand,” Ned whispered. “She was starting to get jittery.”
All of a sudden, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Tami marching toward us. One glance back at George told me she was still working.
“Excuse me,” Tami said curtly. “You took my phone.”
“What’s that in your hand?” I asked, as innocent-sounding as I could. Behind me, I felt Ned and Bess slide in front of George, blocking Tami’s view of her.
“I’m assuming it’s yours,” Tami said, as if I was the dumbest person in the world.
“Oh, did I switch them?” I asked.
“I guess so,” Tami said.
“Sorry about that!” I said, digging in my purse. I threw a quick look behind me. Bess subtly moved her fingers in a circular motion, telling me to stretch it out with Tami to give George more time.
“Let me see if I can find it in here,” I said. “Hang on one second.”
Tami sighed and actually tapped her foot. I had always thought that was just an expression. I had never seen anyone do it.
“You know,” I said, deciding to take advantage of our situation, “I noticed earlier that members of your group were spreading that tweet about Brady saying that protester should be trashed.”
“Yeah, of course,” Tami answered. “People need to see what lines that man is willing to cross.”
“Well, I don’t know if you knew this, but Brady didn’t actually tweet that,” I said as I continued pretending to search Bess’s purse, again using my fake-innocent voice. I was curious to see how she would react.
“Yeah,” Ned chimed in. “That’s actually a fake account.”
Tami stared at us. “What do you mean?”
Ned and I showed her the fake account name. I pointed out the zero in his Twitter handle.
Tami sighed, “Well, I didn’t know. I’ll tell the group.”
“But you know,” Tami went on, “Brady could have tweeted that trash tweet. The fact that I couldn’t tell means that what he does post is over the line.”
She didn’t let me respond. “Can I just get my phone back, please?” She held out her hand.
I resumed digging in the purse. “Oh, sure. Sorry,” I said.
I felt Bess nudge me. I slipped my right hand back and Bess dropped the phone into it. I palmed the phone, reached that hand into the purse, and then pulled it out, extending her phone toward her.
“Thanks,” she said, handing George’s phone back to me and turning away.
As soon as she turned, Bess, Ned, and I all pivoted toward George. Her face was downcast and she shook her head.
“I didn’t find anything that indicated she’s behind that account,” she said.
“She wasn’t acting like she controlled it either,” I said, ushering everyone out of Joe’s office and into the hallway, so we could talk more freely.
“It’s possible she hid it really well, but I checked all the obvious places,” George said. “She seems to have only one account.”
I had been so sure that Tami was our culprit. The case had felt so close to being solved just a few minutes ago, and now it felt further away than ever. I had no more suspects.
“I’m sorry, Nancy,” George said. “Maybe if I’d had more time, I could have found something.”
“It’s not your fault,” I said. “We just need a new angle.”
“Let’s go outside,” Ned suggested. “Fresh air always helps me think.”
But as soon as we pushed open the door, we found ourselves in a huge mob. There were hundreds of people everywhere, streaming toward the theater.
Some were holding signs that said TRASH BRADY OWENS! Others were chanting, “Stop Brady! Stop Brady!”
“Holy cow!” Bess exclaimed.
“I can’t believe how big this got,” I said.
“That’s the power of social media,” said George. “The idea of protesting in front of the theater just went viral.”
“It sure did. It looks like people from all over town are here,” Bess said.
“Yeah, I see a lot of people I recognize from school here,” Ned added.
“You were right, George,” I said, “when you told those women that people are always watching online. I guess they just needed a little push to get them to take action in real life.”
“How does Brady perform in an environment like this?” George asked.
“Nancy!” I heard behind me, barely rising over the noise of all the protesters. I turned to see Joe Archer fighting through the crowd.
“Did you figure out who’s behind this yet?” he asked.
I shook my head.
“It’s five o’clock, Nancy. If I don’t have a culprit in an hour . . .” He trailed off.
“I know. I’m working as fast as I can.”
“Well, either way, I have to put more security out here now. This crowd is out of control,” Joe said. He paused for a moment. “It’s really terrible timing, too. We’re getting the Dutch masters show ready tonight, but I don’t have a choice. We have to put all our security on this madhouse.” He indicated the mass of people in front of us.
“Does that mean The Zebra Finch is coming tonight?” Bess said.
Joe nodded miserably. “Before Brady became a lightning rod for controversy, it would have been fine. We had plenty of security to cover both events, but now . . .”
“Don’t you think you should delay moving in The Zebra Finch, then?” asked Bess.
“Do you know how many months of negotiations it took to get Donna Ellis to let us exhibit that painting? She is a nervous mess about letting this painting out of her vault. If I ask to change one detail, the whole arrangement will fall apart and I’ll have to explain why one of the first performing arts shows was protested and the most famous painting in our first visual arts show was pulled. The Arts Complex would officially be a failure. It would take years to recover from that reputation. Who would risk spending the money to travel here if our shows fall apart at a moment’s notice?”
We stood in silence for a moment, all lost in our own thoughts. The Arts Complex was great. The space was amazing, and Joe seemed like he had really interesting ideas for it. I didn’t want it to fail. I thought about how much money the Towering Heights Resort had put into their renovations. If the Arts Complex didn’t draw the crowds they expected, they would lose money, and a lot of people like Pete—and even the security guards after George and me—would be out of jobs. I couldn’t let that happen.
I smiled confidently back at him. “I’m going to figure out what’s going on here,” I told Joe.